


That One Summer We Spent Inside

by toraten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Recovery, Teens, handicapped, hospital!AU, patient!au, warning:inaccurasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toraten/pseuds/toraten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wakes up from a coma after an accident and finds himself sharing a room with a blind boy his age, Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That One Summer We Spent Inside

**Author's Note:**

> my very first piece of Destiel fanfiction, I hope you guys enjoy~

A day after Dean wakes up from his coma, someone moves into his hospital room while he's out for a scan. The kid is about his age, perched on the edge of the bed and talking to a frantic woman. He doesn't look sick though, not even a little bit. He doesn't have the paper thin skin and hollow eyes of the usual suspects and Dean has trouble figuring out what's wrong with him, because they told him, they told him that people on this floor ' _will be here for a while'_.

"I know, mom, it's okay," the boy says and maybe he's a bit older than Dean then, because that does not sound like a seventeen year-old boy's voice. "I'm blind, not stupid."

Oh, Dean thinks.

"Watch your mouth, Castiel. This is...I'll talk to the nurses about a single room again before I leave. You call me when you need anything. Your brother will visit tonight and talk to the doctors."

"Sure, mom,” the boy says with a faint smile and looks at the general direction of the door while the woman leaves.

When she's gone, Dean scrapes his throat and the boy looks up at the wall at Dean's side of the room. "Yes?"

"I'm Dean," he says. "Got transferred here yesterday."

"Castiel,” the boy says and it takes Dean a moment to realize that that's his name. “Why are you here?"

"Motor cross accident,” Dean explains. “Was in a coma for like two months and now I can't walk for shit."

"Paralyzed?"

"No," Dean snorts. "Pretty close to it, though."

"Sorry to hear that," Castiel says. "But if it helps, I've had 20/20 vision all my life, but when I woke up yesterday I was blind."

Dean stares at him for a moment. The boy's eyes are still fixed on the wall, unfocused. "How?"

Castiel shrugs. "It's all very mysterious. The doctors all had a team meeting about it. Think they found a new project."

"Wow, we fucking suck," Dean sighs and Castiel laughs at that, his lips part and his eyes crinkle and Dean thinks maybe he is seventeen after all.

By the time the evening visiting hour arrives Dean has found out that Cas is in fact seventeen, lives and goes to a private high school right outside of town, has a mom who is a lawyer, two brothers and a little sister, won state math competitions and could have won national -"you know, if I hadn't woken up blind a week before finals." They bond over the fact that they both have fathers who won't be visiting them and Dean watches Cas walk around the room as they talk, warns him when he's about to hit the wall or a table and Cas eventually settles on the edge of Deans bed while Dean tells him the details of his accident. "The one time I _wasn't_ trying to show off, some asshole decided to lose control of his shit. My brother films all my races so there's probably a video. You should watch it, see me fall on my face."

"First thing I'll do if I ever get my sight back."

"Oh my fucking god, I watch you stumble around here for hours and just forget you're blind. They said I don't have brain damage, but I'm not so sure."

Cas laughs and says it's okay and not long after that, a nurse, -"I'm Ellen and you're going to see a lot of me over the coming weeks, sweethearts. I'm happy you two are having the time if your life but you need to take it down a notch. You both need your rest before your family arrives. It's going to be hectic here and you'll be exhausted when they leave."- comes in to change Dean's catheter.

Dean saw his mother just that morning, but apparently he hasn't seen Sam for two months. Dean is distracted away from what's going on with Cas and his family after Mary introduces herself to them and then continues to pull the curtain up between their halves of the room. Sam, sweet Sammy who looks like he grew two inches since yesterday, tries not to cry, and then cries anyway when Dean assures him his big brother is fine. And then his mother is crying and well, that's a bummer on a day that wasn't really that bad to begin with. "Mom, it could have been a lot worse," he tells her. "They said I'm going to walk again just fine eventually."

Mary strokes his hair and says she's so sorry for ever allowing him on a motorcycle to begin with. He tells her that he's going to ride again sooner or later and she cries some more. "Sammy, I'll be up and kicking your ass again in no time, okay?"

"Okay," Sam nods.  
  
Ellen was completely right. When Dean wakes up the next morning he doesn't remember his mom and Sam leaving which means he must havefallen asleep while they were still there. Which also means he hasn't had the chance to introduce them to Cas properly or even wish Cas goodnight. He's not sure why that's such a big deal, but he's happy to open his eyes and see Cas sitting straight up in bed on top of the covers with his eyes closed and his hands moving over something Dean can't make out from the position he's in.

"What are you doing?" he asks and then regrets it immediately when Cas' eyes open in startled shock. "Sorry, man."

"No, it's fine," Cas waves it of. "It's a braille chart. I asked my brother for it yesterday and he dropped it off early this morning."

They're interrupted when Ellen comes in rolling her eyes at the both of them. "You two can't be serious. Up before the nurses?"

"It's very boring around here," Cas tells her. "Do you have books in braille? My brother said he'd bring some over but he won't be back until tonight and my mom doesn't, you know, accept that I'm blind just yet."

"I'll check that out for you. The doctor will be here in about ten minutes for some quick tests and I'll bring them over when he's done," she promises and then moves to Dean's bedside.

"When do I get to start peeing all by myself, like a big boy?" Dean asks her and Cas smiles at his braille chart. "And solid foods, when do I get a cheeseburger?"

"We're taking the tubes out right now, calm down," Ellen chides and the next thing he knows, she's got the curtain closed and is manhandling the tubes out of his arms. And pulling the catheter out. That last one is going to cause some serious trauma, he knows that for sure. He's only vaguely aware of a new voice entering the room, and that must be Cas' doctor for his tests. He's gone again by the time Ellen opens the curtain and Cas is on his feet by the window.  
"Mind if I open it?" he asks and Dean shakes his head before he realizes Cas obviously can't see him. "Go ahead," he says. Cas' hands slide over the windowsill smoothly until he finds the lever and pulls it open. Soft traffic noises filter into the room. Dean can't help but think how well Cas is handling this, how well he's adjusted to this situation without freaking out.

"You know what's really weird?”Dean muses. “I had the accident in April and it's June now. I slept my way through May. Slept through Sammy's birthday.”

"Must feel really strange," Cas says and his eyes are closed, the same way they were that morning when Dean woke up. "It was sunny all through May. Did math problems on the porch swing through most of it."

"Did you go swimming?" Dean asks. And then adds, without thinking about it: "Sam likes swimming, you know? I was going to win all my races and I promised him a trip to the beach with the prize money. What were you going to do this summer?"

Cas purses his lips before turning around to face the room again. His hair is lighter, Dean notices, in direct sun light. It looked almost black before, looks a reddish brown now and when Cas opens his eyes all Dean can think is that he's really beautiful.

"More math mostly," Cas then says with a shrug. "Reading."

"Calm down there, cowboy," Dean chuckles.

Ellen brings Cas a few braille children's books and she brings Dean a bucket of strawberry yoghurt which is apparently what Dean is going to have to live off of for a while. She apologizes for the kiddie books.

"It's practice," Cas shrugs. He ends up on the edge of Dean's bed again, reads the words out loud as he touches them; a story about a frog wanting to fly south and tricking two swallows into taking him with them as he hung from a stick between their beaks. The frog falls eventually, lets go of the stick because he felt the need to wave at someone in passing.

"He actually just dies?" Dean asks when Cas is done and closes the book. "Why do they let kids read that?"

"You think it's sad?" Cas asks and he sounds surprised.

"You don't? The frog died, man."

"Yeah, but he flew. His dream came true."

"He never made it South."

"Doesn't matter. He wanted to fly and South is where birds go. As a frog he has no choice but to follow. As long as he's flying I don't think it matters where he goes. He flew before he died, Dean. It's a pretty good story."

"Sounds like a miserable one to me." Dean frowns and takes the book out of Cas' hand. Dean may have found himself being a creep during the half hour Cas sat there with him, reading. Cas has really nice hands, he notices, really nice wrists and underarms. He has a really nice neck, and a really nice face. Cas can't see him, can't be freaked out and this means that Dean stares. He stares and stares and stares and studies the little things that happen on the boy's face - little smiles, tiny frowns, licking his lips. It hits him around noon, when the afternoon visiting hour comes around, that it's not fair. He watches Cas' mother arrive in a sharply pressed pantsuit and her hair wrapped in a tight bun, and Dean reads it on her face, as she tells Cas to ' _get into bed, don't strain yourself. Save your energy, baby',_ that it's not fair. It's not fair that Cas can't see, that he's going to spend his summer inside this hospital going through test after test.

Sam, only fourteen - no, he's fifteen now - knocks on the door before poking his head inside and takes his mind of how much life sucks for an hour.

He's reminded of all it's suckiness real quick though, when his own doctor comes in after visiting hour, rolling in a wheelchair. "How strong are your arms, darling?" Doctor Barnes asks him.

"I thought you were going to fix my legs, not give me wheels instead," Dean complains. "Why can't we start the rehab thing already?"

"Because I don't want your fragile little heart to give out on me from all the stress and pressure that rehabilitation is going to put on you. You're no where near recovered, sweetheart. In the meantime you'll need to get around a bit. You were the one set on peeing like a big boy, weren't you?"

"Big boys don't pee sitting down, though."

"Come on, grumpy, work those biceps for me."

Turns out Dean has pretty strong arms, or at least that's what Doctor Barnes tells him as he drags himself out of bed and into the sturdy chair next to it. His legs don't feel like dead weight exactly, but it's pretty close and Dean's heart sinks a bit further when he realizes how difficult it is to lift his foot off the floor an onto the plateau of the chair.

"That was beautiful," Pamela says. "Mister Novak would have been very impressed could he have seen it."

"It sounded very impressive," Cas provides from the edge of his bed and after a pause adds: "You okay?"

"Fine," Dean says and gives the wheels a roll. Cas smiles at the sound and isn't surprised when Dean pokes him in the knee with his index finger. Cas catches his hand with his own and says something, something Dean doesn't hear because _woah, Cas really has nice hands_.

"Okay, puppy love, I'll leave you two to it then," doctor Barnes chuckles and Dean feels horrendously guilty for being relieved that Cas can't see his face flaming up.

And the worst thing is that in the week that follows, the term 'puppy love' catches on around the staff. It's not room 409 anymore, it's 'room puppy love,' and Dean thinks it's revenge for the fact that Cas and Dean aren't the easiest patients -'I'm blind, not deaf.' 'I'm crippled, not stupid.' 'I don't even have to see the chart to know that that's not right.' 'Stop yelling, it's broken glass, not radioactive waste.' - and the nurses at the nurses' station all make annoyed sounds and roll their eyes every time they wander out of the room.

Puppy love though, it's...embarrassing. He thanks god and heaven that Sam or his mom haven't heard it yet, because Dean does not need that kind of pressure.

Cas seems unfazed by it, doesn't change the way he is around Dean, doesn't shy away because of it. After a few days Dean isn't as tired any more and he stays up long enough so that they can talk after their visitors leave, and night time conversations are different than day time conversations.

_"Have you ever..."_

_"Obviously. Girls love the mathletes, you know. Must be hard for you though, motor cross is a dirty game."_

_"But seriously?"_

_"Yeah, once."_

_"Girlfriend?"_

_"Mathlete rivals. Don't laugh, stuff can get really heated, okay?"_

_"I'm not laughing."_

_"Yes, you are. Got a better story?"_

_"Not really. Classical back seat tale."_

_"Next thing you're going tell me she was head cheerleader."_

_"She called herself cheercaptain, actually."_

And sex becomes a more reoccurring topic every day and by the end of the second week Cas mentions that he may not exactly be heterosexual and Dean thinks he deals with it really well by saying: "My first crush was Matt Damon."

At the end of the second week Cas goes into surgery and when he comes back nothing about his vision has changed.

"I could have told them that," Cas says to him when he wakes up that evening and finds Dean sitting by his bed. His eyes are bloodshot and teary and there's a yellowish bruise on one side of his face.

Dean doesn't hesitate to take his hand now and threads their fingers together. "Cas, I don't know what to say."

"There's nothing to say, Dean. I don't...I don't think it's going to get better and I'm so tired of them poking at me."

And Dean had suspected it over the weeks, had determined that Cas has real smiles and forced smiles and that Cas' jokes and jabs at his own situation are all accompanied by forced smiles.

"You don't know that, Cas. They could find something."

"I don't... My mom keeps hoping some miracle is going to fix everything and it's so hard to stay rational. To not have hope and not give up completely...I'm just so tired."

"You can't give up, man. As long as the doctors are still looking you just do whatever they say, okay?"

Cas nods and squeezes his eyes shut. Dean puts his head down for a second, presses their joined hands against his forehead and wills away the tears prickling behind his eyes because this just _isn't_ _fair._ The next thing he knows, Ellen is shaking him awake and whispering for him to get into his own bed, _'he'll be there in the morning, baby.'_  
  
Dean starts physical therapy the next day and discovers a whole new kind of hell. He had thought that he'd have more control over his legs by now, he's been there for three goddamn weeks, but he's as weak as he was when he first woke up, it seems.

Doctor Barnes- "Pamela is just fine, sugarplum, we're going to see a lot of each other so we might as well get comfortable." - takes him to the gym, empty except for him and an old lady walking up and down a white line with a cane, and tells him he's going to try and stand up today.

" _Try_ and stand up? As in, maybe I'm going to stay right in this chair?"

"That all depends on how hard you work and what your legs can take. We've got an hour and it's a difficult process," she explains. Dean would have snapped at her had she been anyone else, but Pamela is nice, she doesn't chew him out for making Sam bring him burgers and doesn't mind Cas sitting in on their check ups.

"So where do I start?" he asks.

"You stand up," she says simply. "Few warnings: we're going to fall, not once and not twice but a few times and that's okay. We're going to use a bar to steady ourselves for starters and in a few days, maybe a week, we'll be able to stand without it."

"You keep saying 'we'," Dean says and rolls his chair towards the bar that's adjusted to the wall at the back of the gym. "Looks like you're walking just fine," and he knows he's not being fair, he's being a brat and he's being cold and he should just do his best and get over it. But he can't. He can't put the image of Cas' bruised temple out of his mind. Can't forget his hopeless words and can't fucking get over it.

He falls on his face about twelve times that day and when he finally snaps and calls Pamela a bitch, she doesn't look shocked or even surprised. She looks down at him - he's getting to know this floor pretty well - and tells him to get in his chair. He apologizes, and she tells him not to worry about it, but he apologizes again anyway.  
  
When he's finally back in his room, Cas has the radio on, has pulled a chair up to the window and is feeling up one of his braille books.

"How was it?" Cas asks at the sound of Dean's tires. Dean pulls up next to him and goes off on a fifteen minute rant about the session.

Cas nods. "Think about the long run. In six months you'll be back on your bike."

"Six months is a million fucking years away."

"It's either that or never, Dean."

"I know, I just..."

"I know," Cas says. "I know."

Cas' eyes itch from the surgery, and every now and then he takes the hem of his t-shirt to rub his eyes out, and it shows his bare stomach, all smooth skin and a thin trail of hair running down from his bellybutton into his shorts. Dean feels only a teensy bit guilty for staring, but only a little bit guilty because his morning was shit and this just makes up for it a bit.

"Oh, look what I got us," Cas then says, and pulls two lollipops out of his pocket.

Dean lets out a surprised laugh. "Where did you steal those?"

"Some doctor downstairs gave them to me. All I had to do was be blind."

"No one gives me shit for being crippled," Dean grunts and yanks the cherry flavored one out of Cas' hand.

They talk about nonsense after that, and Cas has his feet propped up against the windowsill, his calves and shins bare and it's another thing Dean can stare at with no reprimands and he counts it as a good second half of themorning. Noon visiting hour is when Dean tells his mother and Sam that his first physical therapy session went just fine, that he's motivated and some more lies to get those worried frowns off their faces. "I wish you could just come home, though," Sam says. "We could drop you off every morning for physical therapy."

"We talked about that to the doctor, sweetie, she said Dean's not ready for that yet. Just a few more weeks," Mary says. But what Dean hears over all those things, is Cas' mother crying at the other side of the curtain.  
  
In the following week Cas has a lollipop ready for Dean whenever he comes back from his physical therapy session. Dean doesn't yell at Pamela anymore and she tells him he's doing great - can stand on his own and take two whole steps before falling on his face, _yay him_.

On Friday, Cas has a popsicles instead of lollipops. "I asked the doctor yesterday," he says with a grin. "I don't think he can say no to me for some reason." Dean knows exactly what that reason is. He's beyond trying to deny it to himself now. He has a crush on Cas, a great, big crush that all the nurses know about, that Cas probably knows about and which Dean wouldn't try to hide if anyone would ask about it.

They eat their popsicles by the window, but they stand this time, albeit leaning heavily against the windowsill, but Dean is on his feet and that _counts_ for a million reasons. They fling the popsicle sticks out of the window and down onto the street - _'what are they going to do, fine a crippled and a blind little boy?'_

Cas turns towards him then, reaches one hand out until he curls his fingers around Dean's elbow. He pauses there for a moment and Dean is about to ask what he's doing when Cas says: "Feel free to stop me whenever." And then the fingers uncurl from his elbow and ghost over his biceps instead, and then his shoulder, barely touching, and then his neck, his jaw and then they stop, hovering over his lips. Cas waits there and if this is going where Dean thinks it's going then he needs to keep his mouth shut - and yeah, Cas steps forward, curls his fingers around Dean's jaw and pulls him in. His lips are still a bit numb from the popsicle he finished a second ago, and their lips are cold as they touch, but only for a moment because Dean then feels like he's melting and melting and melting until there's nothing left of him but a puddle of goo with Cas' name on it. It's a long kiss, much longer than any first kiss Dean's ever had, with a lot more butterflies. He slides an arm around Cas's waist because Dean forgets for a second that his legs are still fucked to hell and that needs to steady himself. The way Cas hums into his mouth is a very pleasant side effect. He doesn't know how long they stand there, but it's a while and it's a loss when there's a knock on the door and they're forced apart. Ellen, telling them it's visiting hour in five minutes. When she leaves Dean can't help but say: "I can't believe you just made out with a guy without knowing what he looks like," and Cas actually flushes at that, and kicks Dean's wheelchair away, too far for Dean to walk to.

"I knew where that thing was, didn't I ?"

"My mistake. I didn't know I was dealing with pure evil here."

"You think you can walk towards your bed if I guide you?" Cas then asks. It's eight steps, and Dean takes them all with Cas' hands clasped tightly on his hips, keeping him steady. They kiss again when they're finally there, a chaster kiss this time with Dean sitting down and Cas leaning over.

There's a lot more kissing when visiting hour ends.

On Saturday Cas gets a bloody nose in the late afternoon and blames it on the heat. It's not too hot though, for Cas to crawl into Dean's bed that night for some late night making out. They miraculously wake up before Ellen comes in that next morning.

Cas has another bloody nose on Sunday but it's while Dean is at his physical therapy session and Cas tells him the doctor agreed about the heat. And yet, it's not too hot for them to share a bed again that night, though that could be relative since all they're wearing are shorts and their bare skin. Sweet, sweet skin that Dean gets to feel against his own, gets to kiss and nibble on. He's relieved to find out that he isn't the only one with a hard on that night, and maybe the temperature does go up a few degrees when they grind each other into cumming.

When Dean comes back from his session on Monday, Cas isn't there. When he goes to the nurses' station to see if he's wandered off, Ellen's expression makes his stomach drop.

"He collapsed this morning," she tells him when they're back in his room. She tells him this, like it's her job, like it's just what she does and her voice sounds so foreign to Dean's ears that he gets nauseous because of it. "He was rushed into surgery. An aneurysm, I think. It can cause nose bleeds and migraines and he's been asking for pain killers for a few days now. It can also cause blindness."

"He was okay," Dean says and he's confused, because this just doesn't sound right. "Last night, he was fine. He was- an aneurysm? What does that even mean? He's going to be okay, right? Now that they know..."

Ellen gives him that look again and this time she touches his face, a warm hand that is supposed to sooth him, bring him comfort, but does the exact opposite and it's not an answer to his question. Not the answer he wants to hear."There's a chance he won't make it," she finally admits. "He's been here for a long time and somehow the doctors missed it. It happens. But we can't be sure. They're good doctors, Dean. Good surgeons-"

"That's...did you call his mom? Is she okay?"

"They're upstairs. He'll be out of surgery in about three hours and I'll give you an update then. In the meantime eat something or try to get some sleep."

Dean does get into bed then, but not before he flips over his bedside table and decides not to wreck more stuff as it's highly unsatisfactory in this case. He sits in bed and stares out into nothingness. It's been a while since the words _it's not fair_ last haunted him, but they're back and stronger than ever. And he feels ridiculous, just sitting there, absolutely ridiculous, but he doesn't know what else to do.

Sam comes at noon and asks if something is wrong, directly followed by _'hey, where's Cas?' and_ Dean tells him, tells him that Cas is in pretty bad shape and that he's in surgery now.

"It's going to be fine," he hears himself say, the second he sees the corners of his little brother's mouth droop. "He's going to be okay, Sammy."  
  
Cas' surgery takes two hours longer than it should and when Ellen finally comes to tell him that he's going to be in the ICU for at least twenty four hours. "His mother is going to be there all night, so I'd wait until tomorrow morning to see him." And then she continuous to tell him a million things he doesn't want to know; _could be blind forever, possible memory loss, paralysis is always a risk with brain surgery, or deterioration of motor skills, that's a common side effect_.  
He doesn't sleep that night, doesn't feel any better knowing Cas is lying one floor above him hooked to a shit ton of machines.

Pamela comes to get him for his physical therapy in the morning, and he goes with her without complaining, mostly because he doesn't even have the energy for that, and she doesn't scold him when he gives only halve the effort he's put in over the last week.

"He won't be awake for a while," she tells him when their session is finished. "By tonight, earliest."

Cas doesn't wake up that night, nor the next. It's Thursday when Ellen wakes Dean up in the morning and tells him: _'The blue puppy asked about you'_. And it's only then that Dean's heart stops feeling like it's made of lead. He doesn't wait for Pamela, doesn't hear anything Ellen says after telling him the room number. It's one floor up and Dean would have flown up the stairs if he could.

Cas is sitting right up in bed and when Dean sees him he remembers the very first time they met and how he thought Cas didn't look sick at all. Cas looks sick now, paper thin skin and hallow eyes. He's hooked up to the machines, all of them, it seems.

Cas' head snaps up at the sound of Dean's tires by the door of his room, and Dean freezes. Cas isn't gazing in his general direction, like before. He's staring right at him, right at his face and Dean feels a very strong urge to hide, feels _naked_ under his gaze.

"I knew it," Cas then says and the sweet sound of his gravely voice cuts down on the sudden wave of nerves that's taken control of Dean's inside.

"What?" He peeps and finds the strength to roll himself forward into the room, until his knees touch the side of Cas' bed.

"Green eyes," Cas says with a blinding smile and Dean, Dean can't help but grin with him.

"I'd have combed my hair if i knew you'd be seeing me," he says and rakes a hand through his hair. Cas pushes the hand away and replaces it with his own. Dean leans into the touch and feels so much lighter than he did a few hours before, it's ridiculous. There's tears pricking in his eyes because Cas is looking at him, looking at all of him and it doesn't matter that Dean just rolled out of bed, it doesn't matter that Dean hasn't shaved in three days, because Cas is _looking_.  
  
Cas moves out of the ICU and back into their room that night. He stares a lot and Dean finds that he can't be bothered by it. It's only fair, really, since Dean has been staring at Cas for the last seven weeks and he doesn't plan on stopping any time soon.

In the first week after Cas is out of the ICU he's mostly asleep and sometimes when he wakes up and looks at Dean, Dean can see that it takes him a second to recognize him. "You have a great face," Cas tells him one afternoon in between visiting hours. "I get why the cheerleader let you go at it in a backseat." They're sharing Cas' bed, Cas at the head of the bed and Dean leaning against the foot.

"Cheercaptain. And I remember you letting me go at it without even knowing what I look like."

"Exactly. So just imagine all the things I'd let you do now that I know for sure you're hot."

"If you let me do what I want, I can't promise you that your brain won't start bleeding again."

"Brain damage or sex? Easy choice," Cas muses and then quickly adds: "Don't ever let my mom hear me say that, she'll set us both on fire."

Dean gets crutches the following week and discharge papers three days later. "I think that when you can sneak into the top floor doctor's rec room by taking the stairs, just to steal some popsicles, you're ready to go home," Pamela tells him. "I talked to your mother about it, said she'd be driving you to your sessions every morning."

"Huh," Dean says and tries not to sound too disappointed. He's not disappointed, not really, but he's not exactly sure what to tell Cas who's got at least another two weeks of recovery left.

"Don't jump too high now," Pamela teases. "Puppy love can thrive without you being attached to the hip, you know."

When Dean shows Cas the papers, Cas grins up at him. "That's great, Dean-"

"I'm going to be back here every day," Dean cuts him off and Cas' smile falters.

"Dean, I know. You don't have to worry about that. Take Sam to the beach, spend the last bit of summer outside."

"I want to take you to the beach too," Dean says.

"We'll go," Cas smiles and reaches up. Dean leans down and let's Cas twirl the tips of his hair between his fingers. "I want to see how blonde you get in the sun. And your freckles, I want to see how defined they get when you get a tan."

"You're going to see all of that and a lot more, Cas," Dean tells him. They spend the rest of the day in bed, until the evening visitors arrive and Cas' brothers glare at Dean until he gets out of Cas' bed. It's a good feeling, a normal feeling, being glared at by big brothers. Sam pushes him that evening and Dean doesn't fall over and it's a nice, normal feeling when he takes his little brother in a choke hold and Mary tells them to ' _calm down the embarrassment'_ , like she'd do when the three of them were at the post office or the supermarket.

  
\--  
"How many times have I told you that the on call room is off limits? That does not exclude that closet. If I get one more patient telling me they think their floor is haunted because they keep hearing strange noises...it's been two years since you started, for god's sake. Time to tone it down."

Ellen has them seated in the doctor's rec room and sadly, it's not the first scolding they've gotten that day.

"In my defense, I was not expecting Dean to wear green scrubs today. They are really attractive," Cas says and Dean shouldn't have laughed as hard because Ellen does not seem amused.

"This hospital is not your puppy playground anymore. No sneaking into closets and staircases. _Even_ after you've finished your rounds," she adds when Dean opens his mouth. "I don't understand how they ever let you into med school in the first place."

"Hey, that's hurtful. We're good. Tonsil surgery is my bitch," Dean objects. "Which reminds me that we're in on doctor Milton's heart transplant tomorrow morning, so we should probably get going."

"Next time when your shifts end, do not crawl into a closet," she warns. "Just head home already."

"Will do, nurse Harvelle," they salute before scampering off.

"And do not go at it in that car of yours either,” she adds before they can leave the room. “That parking lot is still hospital ground.”

 

 


End file.
